I saw him with his hand to his brow

and he was searching, this man called Red-

he was looking for the next tide, the winds or you

he wore a blue cap that cast a shadow over his rounded face

I thought he was golfing,

but there was too much water there for those things

and I knew he was lost– yes, you can be lost at home, he said

he’s lost at home and just about everywhere he turns

but he does at least turn–

(turn with him)

Turning over and over in my bed

shifting into where his footprints still pressed into the soft ground

a track he left for me to foresee the way of things now

here, in this place so foreign to even an experienced traveler

but he knows that I never wanted to be here,

never wanted to confront the possibilities of temptations,

wearing both faded house dresses and sparkling ball gowns

but unsure of the occasion for either anymore,

a body too broken to care for such things–

but he needs you now–

(But he needs you now)

Red turned then into the sea

wearing the Atlantic round his shoulders in blue

and the cap upon his head and only space

where the golf clubs were supposed to be

only air hung now, long and swift it swung,

and he was breathless and timeless again

with earth on his sole and the gold coins

he collected when you were just a boy

hanging off the edge of his wings